LC chapter 11

 

Lin Ruan was awakened by a knock on the door. He opened his eyes and saw light filtering through the canopy from outside. For a moment, he felt groggy and disoriented. In that brief interval, Zhan Xi had lifted the bed curtains and stepped down from the bed.

Several maids entered through the open door, carrying hot water to assist Zhan Xi with his morning ablutions.

Their presence jolted Lin Ruan fully awake. He was unclothed. Though separated by the bed curtain, he instinctively pulled himself deeper under the covers.

Four or five maids dressed in pink stood by, waiting to assist Zhan Xi. One of the younger maids curiously lifted her head to look. The bed curtain hung down, meticulously covering everything. She could vaguely make out the outline of someone on the bed.

Two garments lay discarded at the edge of the bed, and she couldn’t fathom their purpose.

Zhan Xi didn’t summon the maids to approach. Washing his hands himself, he addressed the bed canopy: “Aren’t you getting up?”

Lin Ruan hesitated. “I want to bathe.”

Whether it was an illusion or not, he felt a persistent stickiness on his skin, and the lingering scent beneath the covers embarrassed him.

Zhan Xi wiped his hands with a cloth, then casually instructed the maids, “Go fetch some hot water.”

The maids departed. Zhan Xi took a set of nightclothes out of the wardrobe for Lin Ruan. Lin Ruan hastily accepted them, dressed, and flusteredly pulled the bed curtains aside before stepping out of bed.

Lin Ruan first helped Zhan Xi change. This time, he changed into a crimson purple gown with a slanted collar. The fabric shimmered with a subtle metallic sheen, and upon closer inspection, faint plum blossom patterns could be seen woven into the left shoulder. The rich purple color exuded an air of nobility, and every movement he made radiated aristocratic grace.

Lin Ruan fastened the lotus-petal silver buttons and knelt down to adjust the hem.

He had barely finished dressing when Li, the secondary concubine, sent word summoning Zhan Xi to a meeting.

Zhan Xi adjusted his attire in front of the mirror and said, “There’s a new garment in the wardrobe made for you. Try it on to see if it fits.”

Lin Ruan acknowledged the request. The matron standing in the outer chamber bowed and stole a glance at him, quickly lowering her eyes when Zhan Xi’s gaze swept over her.

Zhan Xi said nothing. Snow fell outside as Lin Ruan handed him his cloak. Shi Ning waited with an umbrella.

As Zhan Xi and Shi Ning stepped out of the courtyard, maids brought water. Lin Ruan quickly washed up in the inner chamber. Last night’s clothes were ruined, and the bedding needed to be replaced, too. Lin Ruan tidied the room and retrieved the outfit Zhan Xi had mentioned from the wardrobe.

The silver-beaded crimson garment had a collar edged with dark blue satin woven with auspicious cloud patterns. The cuffs, not overly narrow, were trimmed with a layer of feather down.

Lin Ruan slipped it on. The vibrant color flattered his complexion. The collar fell precisely at his Adam’s apple, and the not overly tight waistline accentuated his tall frame. The hem fell straight and flat, soft yet not bulky.

Lin Ruan examined himself in the mirror, turning sideways to view his back. He didn’t consider himself fat, but he wasn’t particularly thin, either. Could his figure really be compared to a girl’s slender waist? He recalled Concubine Fucha praising his physique, but he didn’t think it was a compliment.

Lin Ruan finished dressing and stepped outside, where he encountered Tong Bo. The steward frowned at him. “Why are you wearing that color?”

Outside the mansion, it wouldn’t have mattered, but within the prince’s residence, red was not to be worn lightly. Only the principal consort was allowed to wear true crimson. None of the other ladies in the household could claim that privilege.

Lin Ruan simply replied, “My master told me to wear it.”

Tong Bo said nothing more.

With nothing else to do, Lin Ruan stood under the eaves, watching the snow fall and teasing the bulbuls. The snow wasn’t heavy, settling in a thin layer on the swept ground. Paired with the mansion’s red walls and green tiles, the snowfall created a unique, poetic scene.

Breakfast was served late, around ten o’clock, accompanied by the palace’s elaborate morning ritual. Zhan Xi hadn’t returned yet, so Lin Ruan ate with Tong Bo.

After the meal, a messenger arrived from Concubine Fucha’s quarters, requesting Lin Ruan’s presence.

Lin Ruan glanced at Uncle Tong. After a moment’s thought, Uncle Tong said, “If the concubine summons you, you should go. Just return promptly.”

“Yes.”

Lin Ruan followed the matron out the courtyard gate. It was still snowing as a young maid stood beside him, struggling to hold an umbrella aloft. Much shorter than Lin Ruan, she held her arms stiffly, causing the umbrella to sway precariously.

Lin Ruan took the umbrella from the young maid and held it himself.

Seeing this, the matron smiled in a peculiar way. “Young Master Lin still has a sentimental nature.”

Lin Ruan wasn’t sentimental; he was merely being courteous. But this courtesy took on a different flavor within the prince’s mansion—perhaps because the people there were generally impolite.

The matron led Lin Ruan to the front gate adorned with hanging flowers. Lin Ruan stopped and said, “The inner quarters belong to the womenfolk. Would it be improper for me to enter?”

The matron chuckled in a bone-chilling voice and asked, “Does Young Master Lin still consider himself a man?”

Lin Ruan glanced at the matron. This woman was utterly lacking in manners.

She followed the matron through the carved gate and wound past several corridors until they reached the courtyard of Concubine Fucha. The matron stood at the door to announce their arrival. Once a voice responded from inside, the matron shoved Lin Ruan forward and pushed him into the house.

The moment he entered, Lin Ruan began coughing and choking. The room was lit by numerous exquisite white candles, which made it unnaturally bright. The scent of wax was also overwhelming.

Concubine Fucha reclined on the heated bed beneath the south window. She wore her hair in a Manchu chignon adorned with a flat, square red gold ornament inlaid with jade. She wore a Manchu robe embroidered with floral motifs, but no trousers beneath it, revealing her legs.

Those legs bore distinct bruises on the knees. They were the result of Fucha kneeling before the memorial tablet of the late prince all night.

Lin Ruan glanced at the bruises before averting his gaze. He bowed low, preparing to pay his respects.

“No need,” said Fucha Consort, eyeing him up and down. “Don’t get your fine clothes dirty kneeling.”

Lin Ruan instantly recalled Tong Bo’s words, his heart skipping a beat.

The concubine stared at Lin Ruan openly, her gaze moving inch by inch over his splendid red robes and the marks of passion on his neck.

He thought he saw a hint of jealousy in her eyes.

What could she possibly be jealous of? Surely not a red robe.

“Where did you get this outfit?”

Lin Ruan answered truthfully, “The prince gave it to me.”

Fucha’s consort giggled. Her voice carried the coquettish charm of a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl and sent a shiver down Lin Ruan’s spine.

“The prince dotes on you,” said Fucha, her crimson gold bracelet grazing her skin. “The late prince doted on me, too. See these candles? Only he permitted me to have them.”

Lin Ruan glanced over. The candle patterns had been replaced with peonies, each inlaid with silver.

Lin Ruan remained silent, but Concubine Fucha said, “Come closer.”

Lin Ruan hesitated, but a matron behind him pushed him forward. She was quite strong, causing Lin Ruan to stumble and nearly fall to the floor.

Fucha sat up. Lin Ruan found himself facing her directly. Her face was very pale and clearly covered in heavy powder, giving it the appearance of a pearl that had lost its luster. She was no longer young, yet her makeup remained strikingly vivid; her lips were perpetually curved into a smile.

“No wonder His Highness dotes on you. That delicate face—even I find it pleasing.” Fucha’s concubine gazed at Lin Ruan’s neck with a mesmerized look. Her hand twitched as if she were about to reach out and touch his Adam’s apple.

Lin Ruan took a startled step back. Fucha’s concubine withdrew her hand, her smile unchanged. “Do you know my godson?”

Lin Ruan had heard about this matter—Concubine Fucha had once sought to adopt an heir, though the plan never materialized.

“He’s twenty-two, older and taller than you,” Concubine Fucha murmured with a suggestive smile, covering her mouth. “And stronger than you.”

Lin Ruan stared at Fucha, who stared back at him, her gaze lingering. “He’s a man—a real man. What about you?”

Lin Ruan pressed his lips tightly together.

“It’s pitiful, really. A man treated like a woman.” Concubine Fucha laughed as she spoke. “Do you sound as good as a woman when you cry out in bed?”

Her words were crudely vulgar, and Lin Ruan’s expression grew grim.

“But I bet you have no idea what a real woman is like.” Concubine Fucha stepped down and grabbed Lin Ruan’s hand. Lin Ruan tried to pull away, but she held onto his hand tightly, leaving a bloody mark on the back of his hand.

Fucha slid Lin Ruan’s hand beneath her Manchu robe. Her eyes closed, she let out a sound. The nearby maids and matrons seemed deaf to it all.

To Lin Ruan, Fuca’s moans sounded like those in a horror movie.

Pale-faced, he pushed her away and fled like a madman. Barely out of her courtyard, he clung to a tree and vomited.

He vomited violently, as if trying to expel his insides. The hand Fucha had grabbed was still trembling uncontrollably.

Lin Ruan knelt down and scrubbed that hand with snow until it bled and lost all feeling from the cold. Yet the sickening sensation refused to fade.

Lin Ruan’s stomach churned relentlessly. He felt not just the courtyard behind him but also the entire mansion, looming like a monstrous beast and slowly closing in on him. It seemed intent on turning him into another ghost, one that would haunt its deep halls. He had never yearned so desperately to escape this place.

He stood up, but after taking two steps, he collapsed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.

Lin Ruan: So scared!